It was the monotony
That inspired him to leave, that
Chased him out of the house
With nothing but his passport,
His phone and his debit card.
He took the chance while she was
Shopping for his favourite food,
Slipped out of the front door
And walked down to the station,
Bought himself a ticket to London,
Then a tube to Heathrow, and
A one-way flight to the last country
She’d think he’d choose.
Now he’s in a forest firing
Missiles at the Russians.
R 25/03/2023 20:25
Not particularly inspired today (irony, seeing as that was the prompt). Been doing nitty-gritty editing of Aggie today, most of the day, and only 126 of 466 pages done. Changing phrases here and there, filling small gaps in the plot, in the back story, in the thing itself. More tomorrow. And messing with tech a bit until I realised I didn’t have all the right gear, which should now arrive tomorrow. As if the house weren’t full enough of tech already. Foolish. Ah, but middle-aged men with several black dogs biting at their ankles need to distract themselves somehow.
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